


Two Ways Mary Winchester Did Not Die

by sister_wolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-09
Updated: 2006-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Ways Mary Winchester Did Not Die</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Ways Mary Winchester Did Not Die

1.

The day that Mary _would_ have met John Winchester, her purse gets stolen right out of her shopping cart at the grocery store. The policeman who takes her report has broad shoulders and a kind smile, and two years later they get married. Four years later, he's part of the investigation into Sherry Winchester's death.

"Two boys, one's four and the other one's just a baby," he tells her one night after a long day at work. "Their mother is dead, their father is in jail for her murder-- damn. What the hell do you tell them? Sorry about your crazy dad and your dead mom, have fun in foster care?"

"Those poor boys." Mary frowns at the dish she's drying and sets it in the rack decisively. They've been trying to get pregnant for four years, and they're finally beginning to accept that it's just not going to happen without medical intervention. "Honey," she says slowly, still trying the thought on for size, "How would you feel about adopting? Maybe two boys, a younger and an older?"

"The Winchester boys?" She nods. He smiles, that gentle smile she fell in love with the day they met, and tells her yes. They get started on the paperwork the very next day.

A year later, Dean-- silent, angry Dean, who they had worried would never come out of his shell-- calls her Mom for the first time, and Mary Allen feels something in her heart click into place, a feeling that finally, _finally_ , she's right where she was always meant to be.

***

2.

Sam always felt, growing up, that there was something _missing_ from the Winchester family. There should be something more than this. More than his father, grey before his time, falling asleep in front of the TV with his fourth beer of the evening in hand; more than his mother, blonde and brittle, tucking him into bed every night with a look on her face like she was afraid he might not be there in the morning.

One day in the third grade, his best friend, Matt Johnson, told Sam that he was going to have a baby brother. Matt was really excited about it, talking about teaching his brother how to play baseball and stuff. Sam thought, _Maybe that's it._ Maybe that's what he'd always felt was missing.

That night Sam asked his mom, as she was tucking him into bed, if he could have a brother. The look on her face when he asked made him wish he'd never said anything. He'd never seen his mom cry before.

Mom sat down on the edge of the bed and cuddled him against her side, petting his hair for a few minutes. Eventually, she said quietly, "Your father and I always disagreed about whether we should tell you this. But I think you're old enough to know now, Sam. You did have a brother once, but he died a long time ago, when you were just a baby. His name was Dean, and he loved you more than anything."

"Dean." It sounded... _right_ , somehow. Sam buried his face in the soft, slightly scratchy wool of her sweater, asking in a muffled voice, "Mom? How did he die?"

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "It was an accident, baby. Just a terrible, terrible accident."

Sam knotted his fingers in the hem of her sweater. "Was it... was it a fire, Mom? I... have nightmares, sometimes. About fire."

Her arms tightened around him until it was almost painful. "Oh, Sam. I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't think you remembered."

That night, when the fire monster appeared in his closet, as it had once every couple of months for as long as Sam could remember, he didn't hide under the covers like usual, hoping that it would go away. Instead, Sam got out of bed and walked toward the fire monster, his heart racing and his palms sweating like crazy. He squinted at it, trying to see anything past the flames, and asked hesitantly, "Dean?"

The flames roared for a moment, shooting up toward the ceiling, and then suddenly they died away as if they had never existed. In the place of the fire monster stood a boy, older than Sam, with sandy brown hair and a mocking smile. "Jeez. Took you long enough to figure it out, monkeybutt."

"Dean," Sam said again, smiling like crazy and feeling his eyes fill up with tears. Because this was it. This was what he'd always felt missing from his family.

His brother.

 _Dean_.


End file.
